


Impossible to Refute

by bluespring864



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluespring864/pseuds/bluespring864
Summary: The black-haired head tilted a bit away from him, their eyes meeting as they shared a small, slightly wistful smile.They understood each other, and though neither of them turned to look, Stéphane was sure he wasn’t alone in sensing, among the many eyes that followed their progress through the room, a pair of intense almost-black ones that, if looks could kill, might have done some frightful damage to him.





	Impossible to Refute

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened. Guess it balances out the fluff of my other Yuzu/Javi stories.
> 
> If you want to, watch Stéphane Lambiel's 2010 Ex 'Ne me quitte pas' before or after reading. It fits all the characters here in some way.
> 
> If you're wondering why Stéphane seems to be in most of my figure skating fics, that's because he's my all time favorite, despite the way I treated the poor man in this story.
> 
> Well, I don't really want to say more about this and give half of it away. As Javi famously said: 'Oh my god, here I go.'
> 
> Hope you find something to like. As always, I'm happy to receive your thoughts and comments.

At thirty-three years old, Stéphane Lambiel wasn’t wise by any stretch of the imagination. He was, however, old enough to know that he wasn’t.

Because of this newfound – well, not wisdom – because of this newfound knowledge, he didn’t even bother debating with himself.

The newly-crowned two-time Olympic champion, ten years younger than him, in the prime of his skating career, unstoppable even with nasty injuries, and beautiful, oh so beautiful and alluring, would be at Fantasy on Ice again, and Stéphane would be showing off.

Of course he would.

No matter that Yuzuru Hanyū probably wouldn’t be looking twice at him.

Stéphane would pull out his most beautiful quad, and if he fell on his face in front of the champion, so be it.

If he landed it perfectly, and maybe got an admiring look or comment, even better.

He didn’t expect anything more, and so it was that he had to pinch himself a little when he found himself at a quiet corner table with a breathtaking Japanese boy, who wanted to talk about sex.

“So, you are gay too, yes?” had been his opening gambit, after about half a minute of silence, and Stéphane had coughed to mask his sound of shock. There often was a bit of a divide between the old guard and the young guns at these shows. Hanyū had been distant and polite last year, and so the shock of the question mixed with the shock of who was asking it.

The latter was more prominent, the former more an ingrained reaction that had lost its meaning some time ago. Stéphane had never come out, but only because he found the concept ridiculous - why should he announce his sexuality when straight people didn’t have to? (Although they sometimes felt the need to, interestingly enough, as soon as they realised he was gay).

So, no, the content of the question wasn’t really shocking, and, actually, neither was the person asking it.

It was the way he’d asked.

Incredibly straightforward, considering he was a) Japanese, b) not retired and c) a media phenomenon with (unfortunately, still, in these ‘modern’ times) something to lose.

Stéphane watched the young man quietly for a few seconds. Hanyū was masking his discomfort well behind a blank face. He didn’t fidget, just sat there and looked a bit tense. There was even a small smile creeping onto his lips, one that said ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to make things weird.’

Stéphane was impressed.

“Yes, sure I am. What do you want to know?”

It was the only thing that made sense. He must have come for advice. That happened sometimes.

The look he got in return was assessing, and then it turned heated in a second. Quite unmistakably heated. It said ‘don’t sell yourself short’, and Stéphane felt a slow smile spread over his face.

Still waters, and everything.

Yuzuru Hanyū was apparently full of surprises.

Stéphane slipped out of one sneaker and stretched out a leg under the table, finding the desired spot immediately through long years of practice. He moved his sock-clad foot over the other’s shin.

There wasn’t even a flinch. No, instead he got a look full of fierce triumph, and nearly laughed.

_Did you think I would say no to you of all people?_

But then, everybody had their insecurities.

“I need to lose my virginity at some point,” the boy said, and Stéphane had to duck his head, because that was more of a fucking turn-on than it should be, and he suspected that Yuzuru Hanyū knew exactly what he was playing at.

But no, perhaps not exactly. When Stéphane looked up again, carefully schooling his features into something open yet neutral, he realised that the boy was scared.

He masked it well, but for a brief, unguarded moment, it had been clearly visible.

“Hey,” Stéphane murmured, reaching out a hand to cover the two that were lying on the table, clasped maybe a bit strongly together, “it shouldn’t be ‘need to’, but ‘want to’.”

He got a slightly bitter laugh for his effort. Yuzuru’s eyes (and he should be calling him Yuzuru, given what they might be about to do) darted away for a second, and though they didn’t settle on someone specific, Stéphane suddenly understood.

_Oh._

_I’m not first choice._

_Of course not,_ he then berated himself, _you wouldn’t have to remind yourself of that, had you been thinking with your brain instead of other organs._

“I see. I think.” he said quietly, then continued in the same tone of voice,

“Listen, I’m not saying no,” ( _not sure I would be capable of turning you down outright_ ) “but be sure you won’t regret it.”

Suddenly, the heated look was back.

“No. I want you.”

_Well, fuck._

“You know what you’re doing, yes?”

Stéphane gulped and nodded.

“And you’re hot.”

_Well, fuck and then some._

“What if I were to say I don’t do casual.”

The boy ( _young man, stop calling him a boy, you sound like a pervert_ ) grinned at that, and it was nice to see some of the well-hidden tension leave him; visible only now that it was gone.

“I would call you liar.”

Someone had clearly been paying attention over the years. Stéphane had cut back in recent times, had started to look for something a bit more long-term.

He hadn’t found it yet, though, and so tonight he’d make an exception.

Of course he would.

“All right, Yuzuru.”

Stéphane took care with that beautiful, sibilant name, and earned himself another heated gaze by the thusly addressed young man.

A careful look around the hotel bar confirmed that most of the other skaters were engrossed in their own conversations, though some looks strayed to their table, attracted no doubt by the radiant young star in front of him – a star in every sense of the word. Or maybe also by the interesting pairing they made, sitting there in the corner by the windows, apart from everybody else.

“312. If you want to go up separately.”

Briefly, those deep, dark eyes turned sad, then blazed again.

“I don’t mind being seen. Do you?”

_Yes, right, you’ve got your reasons for wanting to be seen. I really hope you’re not making yourself unhappy with this. But I certainly don’t mind being seen with you; don’t be absurd._

Yuzuru Hanyū might be a bit scared, but he seemed sure about what he wanted, and so Stéphane didn’t dishonour him by asking again. Instead of an answer to Yuzuru’s question, he slipped back into his shoe, got up quietly, signalled the waiter to put their barely touched drinks on his room number, and staked his claim by settling a hand on that sinful back as soon as they’d stepped away from the table.

The black-haired head tilted a bit away from him, their eyes meeting as they shared a small, slightly wistful smile.

They understood each other, and though neither of them turned to look, Stéphane was sure he wasn’t alone in sensing, among the many eyes that followed their progress through the room, a pair of intense almost-black ones that, if looks could kill, might have done some frightful damage to him.

 

~---~

 

Javier Fernández was ready to explode.

How could…that…that…that…

He lost some of his steam right there, because he couldn’t really find a word to curse out that nice Swiss guy – great skater, always friendly, always helpful, and not even slightly creepy, as much as Javi wanted him to be, so that he could hate him.

How could Yuzu, then? _Let’s focus on that._

Way to go and announce to the whole room what he was doing, and to shatter Javi’s perception about Yuzu not being interested in ‘those things’ in the process. Yes, he knew it was ridiculous to think that way, but, to his knowledge, Yuzu had never shown any sexual interest in anybody, and Javi had wanted to think it was simply another thing Yuzu had sacrificed to the great Skating God, who had given Yuzuru Hanyū so many things in return.

 _Has he really never shown any interest in anybody, though?_ A familiar voice was nagging at the back of his mind.

_The way he looks at you, the things he says about you…_

_Oh, come off it, you should be glad that it’s someone else and not you. How would you feel about breaking his heart because you have to turn him down, hm?_

Even as that thought nearly made him recoil physically, the little voice at the back of his head kept on insisting that he wanted to be loved, no matter what kind of a cruel person that would make him.

God, he was sick, wasn’t he?

“Hey buddy, off in your own world there?”

Scott Moir’s voice penetrated his thoughts slowly, as if through a thick treacle of brain matter.

“Think I’ll turn in,” Javi got out, and fled the table as soon as the others had waved him off.

Zhenya shot him an assessing look that stayed with him as he lay awake, tossing and turning. He’d probably meant nothing by it, but if he had…

_If there’s nothing there, Javi, why do you care what he might have meant by that look?_

_Why do you care what Yuzu might be (is) doing right now?_

_Why do you flinch every time Yuzu hugs you?_

_Why do you prefer to call a shiver a flinch?_

_Why…_

_Why…_

_Why…_

~---~

 

Another town, another hotel bar.

Another secluded table by the window.

Stéphane was feeling melancholy, and had taken his chance to ostensibly follow the smokers out for some air, but veer off at the last second and settle at an alcove table.

It had been good with Yuzu.

It had been good, because he’d known how to make it good, and Yuzuru had appreciated that, had been so responsive, so beautiful when he came. Every time he came, because he had been a bit insatiable, too.

Stéphane smiled fondly at the memory, but not happily.

Because it had been good, but it hadn’t been right.

Yuzu had managed not to let it ruin anything, but his poor heart was so clearly somewhere else that it sometimes hurt to look at him.

Stéphane wasn’t sure he’d ever loved like this.

_So desperately._

No wonder Yuzuru Hanyū skated with such emotion.

The feelings had to go somewhere.

A chair scraped quietly over carpet, and someone settled down beside him.

Stéphane looked up, half expecting an irate Spaniard, who, after avoiding him pointedly for the last five days, might have finally come to give him a piece of his mind about what he’d done.

But no, Yuzuru again.

They hadn’t seen each other during the week leading up to the second show. Yuzu had been gone. Other commitments.

They hadn’t seen each other since they’d parted with a kiss that felt like goodbye.

Stéphane raised his eyebrows slightly, astonished, and got an immediate shake of the head.

“Thank you. For everything,” Yuzu said, suddenly shy where he hadn’t been before. “But…” he trailed off, shooting him a helpless look, and Stéphane simply nodded.

That’s what he’d thought. There was a rather inconvenient ‘but’.

“Right.”

Stéphane left it at that, and Yuzuru looked relieved, like he wanted to thank him again. But then he only asked,

“Can we talk a bit?”

Oh, Stéphane felt so protective of him. He tried not to let it show; had the distinct feeling it would not be appreciated.

“Sure.”

A grateful little smile was his reward.

“So…”

His suddenly careful look let Stéphane think for a second that Yuzuru was going to mince his words this time round, but then determination returned to the dark, expressive eyes, and with it that astonishing directness.

“So, have you been in love with straight guys?”

He spoke slowly, but mostly because he wanted to get his English right, Stéphane thought, not because he felt uncomfortable about what he wanted to ask.

Were they really going to talk about this? This shadow that loomed, colouring every one of their interactions?

_Alright, then._

“Yes. I think it’s pretty much inevitable. Everybody falls for someone unattainable now and then. It has a particular allure, I guess.”

Oh no, he’d succeeded in making him angry. _Perhaps he thinks I’m downplaying his experience? I’m not, Yuzu, I’m not._

“It never hit me that bad, but it can be hell. I talked about this with Johnny sometimes…”

The anger was gone in an instant.

_Right, he adores Johnny. That would have been a smart move if I’d planned it. But as usual, off the ice, I’m just stumbling my way through life._

Yuzuru, meanwhile, was giving him a rueful look.

“I never talk about this with Johnny. Too scared.”

So honest. But then again, sexual intimacy often paved the way for confessions that would usually never have been imparted.

“I’m not so scary, then?” Stéphane asked with a small smile. It wasn’t wistful or jealous in the least; and he (hopefully) wasn’t sounding like he needed to be reassured, or hear something nice, but nevertheless Yuzuru replied,

“You are quite wonderful.”

_Oh my, pay attention or he’s going to charm his way into your heart. And that would be a right disaster._

Stéphane ducked his head, smiling, and more than a bit embarrassed by the compliment.

“No, you really are,” Yuzu added, sounding embarrassed as well.

There was a lull in the conversation at that point, and Stéphane wondered if they should make their way back to the group before they would be missed, and everybody would be drawing the wrong conclusions after their little display last Sunday.

The others seemed to be having fun anyway, judging from the increased noise level that reached them in their corner. Laughter rose up, bright and easy, one voice louder than the others.

Stéphane wouldn’t have known whose it was, if it wasn’t for the look in his young man’s eyes ( _he’s_ _not yours, Stéphane, that’s exactly the point_ ).

He studied Yuzu for a moment, not hiding his glances.

So thin, so delicate, yet so strong.

“Have you…” Yuzuru started again, sounding even more hesitant now.

“Have you ever been in love with someone who didn’t want to acknowledge they weren’t straight?”

_Oh, my dear one._

“Urgh, yes, that’s almost worse, because you hope. You think that’s the case with him?”

Yuzu looked at him for a second, eyes wide with shock. Perhaps he had truly not known how obvious he was being? Or perhaps it was only that nobody had ever dared to talk about it with him, despite the way he often clung to a certain Spanish skater.

But, calm and strong he stayed. He only shrugged.

“He’s looking. Always looking. And as soon as he started looking, he stopped touching so much.”

“Oh.” Stéphane had to say, because he hadn’t seen them together often enough recently for such observations.

“And… nothing is easy anymore. He, he analyses. Everything. And makes us stumble. And starts putting distance, where we never needed distance, before. And… it got worse, so much worse after breakup with Miki.”

Well, in spite of Yuzuru’s look of frustration with himself after that slowly-knitted-together string of words, Stéphane found the explanations pretty clear.

“Is he really worth it that you wait around for him, on the off-chance he gets his head out of his ass?”

Immediately, he felt stupid for asking, because Yuzuru shot him an exasperated look that said: ‘Do you really think I would be doing that if there was another option for me?’, and Stéphane was back to wondering if he had ever loved so deeply.

He nearly missed the lowly-spoken,

“Yes. Yes he is.”

_Oh, my dear, dear one._

“Right, yes. Sorry. Well, if you think it helps you could try and continue to make him jealous and uncomfortable – talk about how great the Swiss are in bed, or something.”

He actually managed, with that ridiculous comment, to make a small grin appear on the so far very serious face. Stéphane regretted having to shatter it again with his next words.

“It might make him pull back more, of course. But in that case you should probably distance yourself – no, hear me out. It will ruin you to stay so close.”

Sure enough, Yuzu was now looking at him with slightly teary eyes – the first crack in his strong armour.

“But he makes me so happy, too. Just being close, I… I’m so happy. Only sad when I’m stupid, when I wish for more.”

And… he’d succeeded in breaking his heart a little now, damn it.

Stéphane reached out his right hand to cup the other’s cheek tenderly, wiping away a lone tear with his thumb. He was impossibly more beautiful when he cried.

“I can’t tell you what to do, dear one.”

Oh hell, now he’d said it. And the eyes he was looking into so intently grew wide.

“I not… I did not mean to give you pain.”

“It’s nothing, dear one.”

He allowed himself to say it one last time, because it had slipped out already; now one more time didn’t matter so much.

“It’s nothing compared to yours.”

He got up, and before making his way back to the group, bent down to place a kiss on Yuzuru’s forehead.

The young man, who had never been and would never be his, except just a little bit for this one night, accepted it with grace.

As he turned to go, there were eyes on him again, and Stéphane knew before finding them whom they belonged to.

Javier Fernández was staring at him darkly, but did not stop him as he walked past.

 

~---~

 

“Yuzu?”

The elegant black head snapped up as Javi took a seat, then fell back down immediately. But not before Javi had seen the tears.

“What did he do to you?”

Javi shocked himself with the growl in his voice. He wasn’t like that; had never been one of those aggressive guys who always felt the need to avenge, before even knowing what was going on.

_But this is Yuzu._

“Nothing, Javi.”

And now Yuzu looked up again, wiping away the tears angrily.

“Nothing. He was so kind.”

“Did he turn you down?”

Javi’s mouth wasn’t obeying him. He could have at least found a more sensitive way to ask.

But Yuzu laughed, mirthless.

“No. If anything, I turn him down.”

“Didn’t look like it, Sunday night.”

Again with the lack of control about what he was saying. Again with the growl.

Yuzu’s eyes were turning flinty, and Javi was certain he deserved that.

“Javi is an idiot.”

Yes, yes, he deserved that.

“Sure, most of the time.”

The anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, and Javi wished it back, because it looked like Yuzu was going to cry again. Javi nearly reached out a hand to cup his face, then felt sick because he’d just seen someone else use that gesture. It felt absurdly like it had been taken away from him, and he wondered what else Stéphane Lambiel had taken.

Yuzuru answered that one pretty quickly.

“I slept with him. Because I’m thinking I don’t want to die virgin.”

Javi felt ill again, and his mind whirled, the sensation similar to losing control of a spin at full speed.

“Die, Yuzu, what –”

God, that laugh was frightening. So wholly devoid of mirth, but mocking, mocking, mocking. Javi never wanted to hear that laugh again.

“No, no. I’m not dying,” Yuzu explained, his laugh almost hysterical for a second, before he caught himself, and continued very quietly. “And I’m not… helping out with dying.”

“Yuzu!”

Javi couldn’t stop himself, he grabbed both of Yuzu’s arms, which were lying loosely on the table. He wished they were sitting somewhere else right now, somewhere more private. He wished he had the right to just draw Yuzu into his arms – he used to have that right, didn’t he? He had been stupid enough to give it up by drawing away.

Though Yuzu had never revoked it, actually. He was initiating hugs still, even when Javi was reluctant.

In an instant, Javi had jumped up, not letting go of Yuzu’s arms, and then he was around the table and crouching beside Yuzu’s chair. Wide eyes looked down at him, and Javi had so much to say, but no words to say it.

He stood up again, restless, and pulled Yuzu up with him.

There was a desperate look in Yuzu’s eyes for a second, and Javi thought he would push him away, but then he went willingly into a tight embrace.

“Yuzu, Yuzu, my Yuzu, you frighten me.”

Javi didn’t even really know what he was saying; dimly remembered he had to ask something.

“What did you mean? What did you mean, d-die?”

Yuzuru let out that terrible laugh again. And spoke, his voice muffled by Javi’s shirt, his hot breath easily penetrating the fabric.

“You misunderstand. I meant… I wanted who I can’t ever have, and had who I could have instead.”

_Oh, no, no, no. Please no._

“I didn’t want to wait forever. But was no use, really. Good, but not right. But he was so kind, even if I continue waiting now.”

That quiet, dejected voice hurt so much.

Javi held on to Yuzu.

 _It can’t be me he thinks he can’t have_ , he suddenly realised, sure of himself, but more bitter than relieved (and he didn’t want to examine that reaction too closely).

 _He would not be saying those things to me. He would have distanced himself, he would not come quite so close; think how much it hurts you seeing him this way; how much more it would hurt him to stand here in your arms, but not have you, if he really… loved you. It would be self-destructive to come so close_.

The little voice at the back of his head insisted Yuzu could be plenty self-destructive, but Javi didn’t listen further.

He loosened the embrace a fraction, pulled back just a bit, and decided to cup Yuzu’s face in both hands after all.

It did always fit there so well.

“Yuzu?”

“Yes, Javi?”

Who was it who had the power to make this wonderful, often larger-than-life man sound so small?

Javi’s hands moved downwards, to grasp the slim shoulders comfortingly.

“Maybe you should…”

Oh, this was difficult to say. But he was going to say it anyway. Yuzu did not deserve to be so unhappy.

His hands fell away. It was wrong, somehow, to touch when he was about to say this.

“Well, maybe…If Stéphane… if he cares, if you’re sure he cares, you should think about it. It can’t be healthy; the way you are pining for something you can’t have.”

The slap didn’t ring out loudly, but it stung. Stung probably more with the realisation that Yuzu – Yuzu! – had just hit him.

Yuzu was staring at his own hand like it was an alien thing. Then he looked up, and there was just too much emotion in his eyes for Javi to understand even the smallest bit of it.

“I’m so sorry. I…”

Yuzu didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he turned on his heels and disappeared. Out onto the terrace.

Javi kept standing there for a long while, looking at the spot where he’d been.

He was in a daze. He didn’t think at all.

Deep down, he already knew there was only one plausible explanation for Yuzu’s extreme reaction. Therefore, his mind refused to even engage in thought.

When Scott, with whom he’d become fast friends over the last days, called out, “Hey, Javi? Where did he go to now? Javi, you need to hear this!” he walked back to the group like a puppet on a string, plopping himself down at his corner spot beside Scott, who was listening intently to a story Evgeni was telling. Evgeni had had a bit to drink, and wasn’t looking at him like he’d done yesterday, thank god. Javi sat in silence, emptied the fresh beer Scott had ordered and did emphatically not look to the other end of the table, where Stéphane was sitting with Johnny and Jeff. Especially not when Yuzu joined them minutes later.

 

~---~

 

Yuzuru Hanyū always flew over the ice, but this morning he was more like a plane crash waiting to happen, Stéphane thought desperately.

It was still breathtakingly beautiful, but utterly terrifying as well.

Stéphane liked to be the first one on the ice in the morning, but Yuzu had beaten him to it today. Who knew how long he’d been here already, trying to break his neck.

Somehow, Stéphane felt like he couldn’t go into the rink just yet. He didn’t know how to put a stop to this. If he suddenly appeared, he might cause the crash. So he stepped back into the shadows, and sat down heavily in the first row of seats, hoping with all his might Yuzu would wear himself out soon.

Dimly, he heard someone approaching, accompanied by the rustle of wrapping paper.

Johnny and his weird protein bars. He was early today, as well. Really early, for him.

Stéphane moved over one seat, and waited for Johnny to sit down and ask him in his most dramatic voice what was wrong with his darling Yuzuru. He’d already had trouble fending off Johnny’s worried questions about what had happened last weekend.

_And what will I tell him now? He’s quite capable of making a scene, and making everything worse, should he find out the whole story._

But the voice next to him had a Spanish accent, and wasn’t dramatic whatsoever, though it wasn’t quite steady either.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

Stéphane didn’t look away from the figure on the ice. Even had he felt like he was able to do so, he probably still would have thought it better to keep his eyes on Yuzuru, who was looking so very unhinged.

“It’s me he’s in love with.”

 _Wow_. Another one who did not beat around the bush. Now Stéphane had to look, at least for a second.

“You’ve got some nerve talking to me like that; you don’t even know me.”

They’d met at the FoI shows in years before, of course, but they hadn’t really spoken all that much. Not about something of substance, at least. But Javier Fernández just shrugged.

“Yuzu trusts you,” he said, as if that could explain everything, and perhaps it did, for him.

Stéphane, meanwhile, was beginning to wonder what sort of Drama of Errors he’d unwittingly been made a part of here. For now, his role was definitely that of a defender of that poor young man on the ice – Stéphane looked back to see him go into a jump at breakneck speed.

Beside him, Javier gripped the plastic railing hard, his knuckles turning white.

_Good. At least he cares._

Yuzu landed his jump. Beautifully, even. But Stéphane didn’t dare look away, as if by keeping his eyes on him he could somehow help the fragile and iron-willed being on the ice to stay whole.

“Why did he slap you?” he asked – two could play the harsh questions game, and he didn’t for a second buy Javier’s story about running afoul of a door. It had been late when he’d said that, most of them had been quite drunk by that point, but Stéphane had seen the reddening that was now a slight bruise earlier in the evening already, before Javier had gotten drunk. Even if he’d managed to hide himself away in a dark corner at the sidelines of their merry little group.  
Yuzuru had been the life of the party – laughing, always laughing, albeit a bit too loudly, cracking jokes with Johnny and Jeff and spurring everyone on, until it had gotten much later and boozier than planned, given that they did have a show tonight.

Something had been very much off, but Stéphane wasn’t sure anybody who did not have his newfound understanding of Yuzuru had even noticed it.

He’d tried to talk to him, but Yuzu had evaded him skilfully. And the reason, he was sure of it, was sitting right next to him, and stumbling on the answer to his question.

“I… I might have been an insensitive idiot.”

_Well, that’s not helpful. You’ll have to give me more than that._

“What did you say to him?”

“To… well, basically, to try and stop pining for something he can’t have.”

 _Wow_.

“Insensitive idiot is putting it very mildly.”

If Javier’s reply would have been whining and defensive in tone, Stéphane could not have been held responsible for his actions.

But the man sounded quietly defeated.

“I didn’t think it was me. Johnny, maybe. Or, oh, I don’t know. But not me.”

While the tone calmed Stéphane down a little, the words incensed him again.

“You did not want to know, you mean. You were too cowardly to confront him about it or, god forbid, confront your own feelings.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javier look at him sharply, then quickly back to the ice. Barely a second later, Yuzu was throwing himself into a terribly imbalanced spin, crashing to the ice almost immediately with a sickening thud. At least there hadn’t been a crack of bones.

Instead of lying there defeated, Yuzu got up before Stéphane and Javier had even finished jumping up from their seats; and picked up speed again.

They both kept standing, but didn’t move. Frozen, mesmerized, they watched.

“Yes. I did not want to know.”

Still with that defeated tone. And, interestingly enough, there was no denial of anything Stéphane had accused him of.

Then,

“I can’t watch this.”

Yuzu had given up on the spin and gone into out-of-control twizzles, and looked seconds away from crashing into the boards, always pulling away at the last moment, then speeding up once more.

 _Wait_ , Stéphane thought, _this will end in disaster_.

But before he’d even removed his blade guards, Javier was on the ice.

Stéphane stopped, couldn’t do anything but watch. Javier wasn’t skating towards Yuzu, but along the boards, and Yuzu was already hurtling towards him. He did attempt to slow down ( _too little, too late this time, Yuzu, oh god_ ) and in doing so apparently saw, out of the corner of his eye, the blur that Javier had to be to him right now, because he stumbled.

Javier, without any concern for his own safety, launched himself forward and threw his arms around Yuzu. They bumped together, and Stéphane flinched, but it didn’t look as harsh as he’d feared. Rather fluid, in fact.

There was no way they could stay upright with the sudden stop, even with how impossibly well that move had turned out, but they fell slowly, Javier wrapped around Yuzu like a protective layer.

And then there they were. Unmoving.

“You have no right.”

The words were an ugly screech, but Javier did not move his arms as Yuzu frantically tried to get out of them, and off the ground.

“Yuzu, stop! Please. Please! Yuzu, Yuzu, my Yuzu…”

All of a sudden, the little struggling bird went limp.

“Javi.”

He said it with such wonder in his voice, as if he was only now actually seeing him, really looking at the man who was lying below him on the ice, who had broken his fall.

Improbably, the next thing out of his mouth was,

“Oh, Javi, so sorry.”

Gloved fingers touched the bruised cheek ever so gently. Javier’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“No, Yuzu, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean – “

The gloved hand closed over his mouth, and Javier’s eyes flew open again.

“No, Javi, no more hope. You’ll take it away again.”

And the little bird got up, and limped and fluttered away on broken wings, however graceful his movements might look to the untrained eye.

Stéphane ducked behind the boards at the last second as Yuzuru came off the ice. He stalked straight past him without seeing him.

With a sigh, Stéphane straightened, and skated out onto the ice, to prod the man lying there before he could freeze to death.

He really was the supporting character in this great drama, Stéphane thought, annoyed. He’d helped set it in motion, and now he was desperately trying to prevent it from falling apart completely – he was basically helpless, but necessary for the plot nonetheless.

He bit back any kind of comment that might have made its way to the tip of his tongue, and held out his hand silently.

 

~---~

 

Javi had always known, somewhere buried deep, or maybe not so deep after all, maybe quite close to the surface, actually, that he wasn’t entirely straight.

For example, he enjoyed David Wilson’s flirting a bit too much (and really not in the – ‘I’m flattered, but horribly embarrassed, no thanks’- kind of way). With Brian, that kind of behaviour would have been just wrong, because the relationship was different, more paternal, but David didn’t have that type of connection with him. He was a bit more camp, and liked to pay pretty outrageous compliments sometimes, that did not always have anything to do with skating at all.

And he looked, oh yes, he looked.

But no, Javi didn’t mind that.

David would never act on it, and Javi liked being admired that way. He even flirted back a little.

It was safe.

But when Javi realised he himself was starting to look differently at Yuzu, of all people, that wasn’t safe. Not safe at all.

It had always been out of the question for him to be anything but straight.

As tolerant as Spain mostly was when it came to being gay, there was a persistent macho culture, especially in sports, that could make life difficult for you.

And Javi was the figurehead for his sport in Spain, and he was meant to say: Look, you don’t have to be gay to like this, or participate in it.

That was all fine by him, because Javi liked women.

The fact that his gaze lingered on a man now and then was easily ignored.

Sometimes, there was a little bit of an outlet; like flirting with David.

But with Yuzu…

They had come incredibly close before they could even hold conversations that weren’t broken scraps of three different languages. Closer, perhaps, than they would have come with words.

Close with touches, and, as strange as it sounded when put into words, close in spirit.

Their uncanny ability to anticipate the other’s movement on the ice; or the reaction to a situation; or even the moment of giving up, when a hug would be needed, had freaked out Brian and Tracy more than once.

_‘Yuzu won’t like that’, ‘You have to change this around for Javi’, ‘Relax, I know he’s coming up on my left’, ‘He’s frustrated, just give me a second’, ‘Yes, yes, if you move there…’_

Tracy had once turned to Brian, and had said in a loud whisper, that wanted to be overheard,

“They’re coaching themselves again.”

Brian had laughed uproariously, but Javi had seen him accept the grain of truth in the statement at the same time.

And it had been true – they had helped each other, fought and laughed with each other, always with the underlying feeling of _knowing_ each other, as different as they were.

It was how Javi hoped a married couple might interact, which had led to a particularly unwise comparison in a press interview, that Yuzu had not found funny.

At the time, Javi had laughed it off; not knowing what was in store for him, and not understanding in the least what might be bugging Yuzu.

Now, he was astonished that he could have talked like that.

Javi had noticed it last year; that he was beginning to look at Yuzu differently, and his instinct had been to pull away.

Yuzu was a man, that was _verboten_ anyway, and then it was Yuzu on top of that, and Javi’s physical attraction was throwing everything off balance, sullying it. Their unique relationship would be destroyed because of it.

Or so he thought.

That stupid wife comment had been made years previous, and in retrospect, Yuzu’s discomfort could very well mean (could only mean?) that he’d been at least attracted to him, quite possibly… in love… with him back then. Javi still shied away from the word even in his thoughts.

How was that possible? Everything had been easy and right, back then.

Everything had been easy and right, and Yuzu had been in love with him.

 _I ruined it_ , Javi thought with a sickening lurch to the stomach. _But not in the way I thought I would. No, Javier Fernández López, you fumbling idiot, it was all coming together, and you upset the balance by pulling away, when you thought you were acting to preserve it._

Images, moments of the last days flared up in his mind.

Yuzu sounding so horrible as he spoke about waiting, about trying not to wait forever.

Yuzu’s look right before he slapped him.

Yuzu laughing and joking, drawing everybody in, but with a voice that was so screamingly hollow, how could they all fail to hear it?

No, that wasn’t true, there Stéphane had been, looking sceptical.

Stéphane, who had placed a kiss on Yuzu’s forehead, who had wiped a tear away tenderly.

Who had taken Yuzu to bed.

And Javi couldn’t even be angry about that. What right did he have?

Yuzu had cried out: “You have no right”, when Javi had tried to hold onto him.

_No right._

That was the answer right there. He had not right.

What was left, then?

He’d already failed at trying to pull away a little. Yuzu had been _hurt_. _He_ had hurt Yuzu.

So, all or nothing.

All or nothing was what was left.

_Nothing, because I hurt him._

_Nothing, because I don’t deserve anything else._

_Nothing, because it’s too late now to start again._

_Nothing._

_Or –_

Stéphane suddenly appeared beside him, saying his name, and Javi jolted back to the world outside his mind rather violently.

He was on an ice rink, skating.

Wearing training clothes.

Practice for tonight.

 _Right_.

“Just stop for now, Javier. It’s no use like that.”

His voice was, if not kind, then at least calm, and Javi didn’t understand how this man wasn’t yelling and screaming at him, what with everything that had happened, what with everything he knew or suspected about Javi’s cowardice.

He realised he had no idea what he’d been doing on the ice, but apparently nothing sensible. He noticed glances thrown his way. _Great_. Maybe he’d just skated around in a circle?

“Okay.”

Where would Yuzu have gone to?

When Javi had nearly reached the entrance, Stéphane came up beside him again.

“Don’t go after him unless you’re very sure what you want.”

Javi stopped at the boards, turned on the spot.

“You’re scary, you know.”

How the hell did this near-stranger seem to know so unerringly what he was thinking?

Lambiel was looking at him with raised eyebrows, and for the first time his reply sounded a bit prissy.

“I have it on good authority that’s not the case.”

_What?_

Off he was again.

 _Forget it_ , Javi’s mind insisted.

There’s only one thing that’s important in this world.

 

 _Yuzu_.

 

~---~

 

Today was one of the days where Yuzu could barely remember why he bothered with living.

The faces of his family swam in the distance, wearing accusing looks, but they were too far away to reach him.

The joy of skating, likewise, seemed a distant memory.

Only one thing was still clear and razor-sharp in his mind, as much as he fruitlessly clawed and tore at it.

He knew it would be to no avail, but he tried getting rid of it anew every time it hurt so much.

 _Can’t be healthy_ , Javi had said.

 _No_ , Yuzu thought, bitterly. _No, you’re right, it isn’t._

_But that has never stopped me._

_Me and my stupid, stupid heart, which wants what it wants._

_Javi, Javi, Javi, Javi._

_Javi._

Yuzu didn’t know where he was.

He’d just left.

He wasn’t even sure what had happened to his skates, didn’t understand right now why that somehow felt like it should have been important. At one point he’d been wearing them, then not.

Yuzu didn’t know where he was, but he sighed contentedly as he left the last houses behind, as gravel crunched under his feet instead of inflexible bitumen.

He didn’t know where he was, but his phone burned in his pocket accusingly, mocking him with the fact that he wasn’t lost as long as he could find out his location with a few taps on the display.

He was tempted to throw it away even before it rang and tortured him with a picture of Javi’s smiling face.

With careful restraint, Yuzu hit the reject button. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally take the call.

He put the phone on silent, but kept it. Throwing it, he’d only deprive himself of the masochistic pleasure of taking it out now and then, to see how many times Javi would call.

_Can’t be healthy._

Yes, he knew it wasn’t.

He wandered around aimlessly, through a pretty much deserted park. It was a grey day. A hopeless day even in its weather.

He took a turn every time he came within sight of another human being.

He longed for a real forest, for true quiet at least, if he couldn’t have peace.

There, he could have curled into a ball and cried, without the possibility of eyes, or, god forbid, cameras on him.

_I will never be able to tear him out. He has taken root in my heart, and it would surely be ripped to pieces in the process._

Slowly, ever so slowly, the walk began to order his thoughts.

Yuzu’s steps became more purposeful.

_There’s only one thing left to do._

_I’ll take Stéphane’s advice and work on establishing that distance._

_I’ll keep the good memories, and I’ll try to forget the rest of it._

_I’ll try and try, for however long it takes._

_I’m good at that._

_Yes, I’m good at that._

When the hotel appeared before him a short while later, he wasn’t even surprised.

The walk had been good, but he should see to it that he got in a bit of practice now, after the useless attempt at it this morning.

Yuzuru shook his head at the strange jumble of thoughts he’d left behind.

Throwing his phone away, what a needlessly dramatic idea.

And his skates were in the locker he’d been assigned for the weekend, he remembered clearly now that he’d put them in there and closed it.

He pulled out his phone to check the time – if he hurried up, he could maybe squeeze in a bit of practice with the dancers; they might be open to the idea.

Five missed calls from Javi.

_Someone’s feeling guilty._

Briefly, he thought about deleting the picture he had on there for Javi. But it was from one of those light and easy moments that didn’t happen anymore, and he’d said he’d keep the good memories.

Just a quick change of clothes, then back to the rink.

Javi was sitting on the floor in front of Yuzu’s hotel room, his head leaning heavily against one shoulder, his eyes closed, his face anything but relaxed.

The impulse to turn around and walk away was quickly smothered.

Running would have been useless, anyway, because Javi lifted his head and opened his eyes slowly, as if he sensed Yuzu was there.

“Yuzu.”

He sighed his name, and Yuzu would miss that.

“Yuzu, are you all right? I was so worried.”

_I figured._

Javi stood up, but didn’t approach, as if Yuzu was a wild animal that might yet spook.

“Of course I’m all right, Javier.”

Dispassionate. That was the right tone. And Javi actually flinched at hearing his full name.

Wow. Yuzu hadn’t realised he had that much power over him.

“No!”

The word wasn’t a reply.

It was a cry of anguish.

The cry of someone losing a loved one.

It broke through to Yuzu. There was no stopping it.

_Oh, Javi, don’t make that sound because of me. It’s not fair. You’re not the heartbroken one, are you?_

But Javi was acting like he was, was looking at him wildly.

“I have no right, Yuzu, I know, but please – “

Yuzu wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of it, but especially not here.

“Come. Not in the corridor.”

He wondered where this sudden calm had been when he’d needed it yesterday evening, or this morning.

Javi seemed very much frightened by it. He stared at him with wide eyes while Yuzu swiped the plastic card over the sensor and then held open the door.

“I’ve already lost you, haven’t I?”

Well, if he was trying to destroy Yuzu’s calm, he was succeeding.

You _have lost_ me _,_ _really?_

The door fell closed with a quiet thud, and Yuzu rounded on him, furious.

Quiet but deadly.

“Don’t dare talk about losing with me. It’s me, the one losing. It has been me forever.”

In a different context, the words would have been absurd.

But here.

_But here._

Maybe this was the prize for all the things he’d won.

Losing Javi.

If so, it was too high, way too high. But he was coming to terms with the fact that he’d have to pay it.

In horrified fascination, Yuzu looked on as tears began streaming down Javi’s face in long, quick rivulets.

He didn’t wipe them away, paid them no heed, even if they had to be clouding his vision.

Javi fell to his knees in front of him.

The gesture couldn’t fail to tug at Yuzu’s battered heart.

_What is he doing?_

“Forgive me.”

The words were quiet and collected, despite the tears. Only the slightest quaver at the end hinted at the desperation which fuelled them.

“Javi, get up.”

Now the desperation was in his eyes as well, the tears still falling.

He didn’t protest, he didn’t beg.

He got up.

He took two steps, three steps back.

He looked to the floor, as if it hurt to keep his eyes on Yuzu.

_Welcome to my world._

Yuzu approached carefully and took his hand, and Javi’s head snapped up.

“Sit down. Tell me what I should forgive for.”

Javier again did as he was told.

He sank down next to Yuzu on the edge of the bed, reverently took the held-out box of tissues, wrapped in Yuzu’s old faithful mascot, and dried his tears.

 

~---~

 

Javi was in limbo.

He did not understand what was happening.

For a while there, he had thought he was too late. Yuzu had sounded so distant, had acted so very different all of a sudden.

Javi couldn’t follow, couldn’t figure out the tiniest bit about where Yuzu was coming from now, and so he’d assumed that his chance – second, third, fourth, one hundredth…?, he didn’t even know, the first one he longed for desperately in any case, after so many of them had been thrown away – was gone.

But then Yuzu had asked, and so Javi told him.

Told him about ‘not being gay’.

About being wilfully blind.

About his eyes opening against his will.

About fear, about pulling back, about the selfishness of thinking he was the only one affected. About the opposite selfishness of hoping that Yuzu did love him, even if Javi had no intention of doing anything about it.

About rightless jealousy.

About the pain and shock of realisation.

His voice broke and broke and broke, but he kept on pushing through.

_Fall. Get up. Fall. Get up. Fall…_

“So.”

He would get these last words out in a steady voice, he would.

“So, I ask you to forgive me for my idiocy and my cowardice.”

That had been the easy part.

“And, if you have to, for my love.”

 _There_.

All or nothing.

“How can you say that, how can you?”

Oh, Javi hated himself for putting such torment in that beautiful voice. Nothing for it now.

“Because it’s true.”

A sharp intake of breath, then, quietly,

“No, Javi. You don’t love me like I love you.”

Of course Yuzu was brave enough to just say it out loud, however pained he sounded. Yuzu didn’t shy away from pain.

“Not yet.”

Javi half expected another slap. Those words couldn’t be anything but hurtful, now could they.

But no, what he got was quiet astonishment.

“Not…yet?”

How Javi longed to touch him, to pull him close, to comfort. But he still had no right. Being honest didn’t suffice to get it back; Yuzu had to bestow it, and whether he would do so was still in the balance.

“You’ve got quite the headstart, Yuzu.”

An inscrutable look.

Javi braced for rejection. As if expecting it could make it hurt less. As if.

“But you… you want to try? Try… catching up?”

The incredulity in Yuzu’s voice was a sharp blade, but the words gave hope, so much hope.

“More than anything.”

There was no reason to hold back any longer.

 _All or nothing_ , and Javi had decided on the former.

Yuzu, his Yuzu, tilted his head, his eyes x-raying him.

Then, bravely – always so, so brave – he whispered,

“All right.”

And the world found its balance again, as their arms closed around each other.

_And if it will be like it always has been between us, if I never truly catch up, I will die trying._

The thought was suddenly there, fully formed, and something compelled him to say it out loud.

“You won’t retire from this?”

Yuzu pulled back slightly to look at him, and said it with the hint of a smile, amazingly resilient once again, able to crack a joke despite it all.

Javi’s laugh was a startled little thing, but completely genuine, in what felt like the first time in a million years.

“No, Yuzu, no more retiring.”

“Thank god.”

Yuzu was still smiling, smiling a bit more broadly even.

Javi sent a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening that he wouldn’t hurt him ever again.

 

~---~

 

Stéphane watched them orbit each other.

Two very different planets, but of equal force and gravity, impossible without the other.

The world was put to rights, and he could enjoy the beauty of it in an abstract sense.

In a more concrete sense, it hurt, would be hurting for a while still. Not like a chance not taken, but like one that had revealed itself to be a mirage.

Stéphane had thought he’d been going into this with eyes wide open, but no matter what the mind said, the heart sometimes went ahead and hoped hopelessly.

He saw Yuzuru gesture to Javier to follow him off the ice in the middle of practice; saw Javier comply without question. He saw them move into the shadows beside the rink, and squinted his eyes to watch Yuzuru duck in close and peck Javier on the lips, before quickly moving back out with small steps, and then broad strokes.

He watched as Javier touched his fingers to the just-kissed lips with a look of such wonder on his face that it let the last vestiges of Stéphane’s anger and melancholy and hurt melt away like so much ice.

He wasn’t bitter about the supporting role he’d played.

It had been an honour.

Javier was looking straight at him now.

Stéphane nodded to him, and Javier inclined his head.

When he stepped back onto the ice a second later, a black flash whizzed past him immediately, and Javi followed, picked up speed, caught up easily.

Side by side, their movements created a perfect symphony.

Yuzu and Javi.

“Be happy,” Stéphane mouthed to their retreating backs.

Maybe he had been wrong.

Maybe he was old enough to be wise after all.

 

 

 

_Fin_


End file.
